He hums a soft noncommittal noise that turns into an amused at the end. "Iiii can't kiss you," he practically sings the words and laughs again. "That sucks...." He bites his lip and lets out a soft, annoyed sound. He wouldn't, even in his currently more-than-inebriated state, do that to Malcolm. But it doesn't stop him from wanting to.
"I did.... but for what?" The laugh that comes this time is a high-pitched titter that tapers at the end, and he shakes his head. "Don't got nothin' to show for it... Dave's... probably still dead. And..." There's that nearly sing-song tone again, "the way the family's luck keeps goin'..." He sighs, shaking his head again. "we're oh-for-two on Apocalypses that my sister was the cause of." He looks sharply up at Raylan, and lifts first three, then after a second, he lowers one finger and then two. "Twice. Third time's the charm, right?"
He lights up suddenly, clapping his hands together with a loud snap; as soon as he speaks, it's clear the whole thing is facetious as all hell. "Oh! Ben is gone. Like– gone-gone. And I haven't– everybody else–" he waves his hand in a vague circle. "they– they lost him years ago... but not meeee. I had him the whooooleee time. And now he's gone. And I- I don't-" He shakes his head, a little more frantically this time, and his face is threatening to crumble the longer he talkes. "I-I don't know how to do that.... I don't- he's gone...
And Five's gone.... a-and Max is gone," his voice breaks for a sob. "Everybody's gone... leaving and... and dead and... I- I can't- I can't reach them. I can't hear them and I can't see them and-" His breaths aren't normal any more, too quick, hitching and coming in gasps now. "I can't- you'll be next... and Doc and Malcolm and...I can't," he shakes his head, "I can't, okay, and-"
He stumbles backward on the couch, out of Raylan's grip. He hasn't thought about it like this since... maybe the first time he really broke down about Ben. That feels like a lifetime ago. Two or three of them. So much has happened since then. He's died since then. Watched so many of his friends die. More than once.
It's stupid, really. A reckless move only a junkie would make, and one Raylan can probably see coming a mile away, but he clamors off the couch and grabs for the bag beside it, digging through it frantically.
He was supposed to be numb to this. He wants to be numb.
One more. Maybe two.
It's fine. He's fine.
The pills clatter inside the bottle when he finally gets his fingers on it and he darts up immediately, fumbling with the lid but it's opened. Pills spill all across the floor, but it doesn't matter. There's more where that came from.
He dumps a handful out, but it's the shaking hand search for what he's looking for in his amalgam pill bottle that ends up stalling him too long.
cw: detailed panic attack descriptions, vague hints at suicidal ideation
"I did.... but for what?" The laugh that comes this time is a high-pitched titter that tapers at the end, and he shakes his head. "Don't got nothin' to show for it... Dave's... probably still dead. And..." There's that nearly sing-song tone again, "the way the family's luck keeps goin'..." He sighs, shaking his head again. "we're oh-for-two on Apocalypses that my sister was the cause of." He looks sharply up at Raylan, and lifts first three, then after a second, he lowers one finger and then two. "Twice. Third time's the charm, right?"
He lights up suddenly, clapping his hands together with a loud snap; as soon as he speaks, it's clear the whole thing is facetious as all hell. "Oh! Ben is gone. Like– gone-gone. And I haven't– everybody else–" he waves his hand in a vague circle. "they– they lost him years ago... but not meeee. I had him the whooooleee time. And now he's gone. And I- I don't-" He shakes his head, a little more frantically this time, and his face is threatening to crumble the longer he talkes. "I-I don't know how to do that.... I don't- he's gone...
And Five's gone.... a-and Max is gone," his voice breaks for a sob. "Everybody's gone... leaving and... and dead and... I- I can't- I can't reach them. I can't hear them and I can't see them and-" His breaths aren't normal any more, too quick, hitching and coming in gasps now. "I can't- you'll be next... and Doc and Malcolm and...I can't," he shakes his head, "I can't, okay, and-"
He stumbles backward on the couch, out of Raylan's grip. He hasn't thought about it like this since... maybe the first time he really broke down about Ben. That feels like a lifetime ago. Two or three of them. So much has happened since then. He's died since then. Watched so many of his friends die. More than once.
It's stupid, really. A reckless move only a junkie would make, and one Raylan can probably see coming a mile away, but he clamors off the couch and grabs for the bag beside it, digging through it frantically.
He was supposed to be numb to this.
He wants to be numb.
One more.
Maybe two.
It's fine.
He's fine.
The pills clatter inside the bottle when he finally gets his fingers on it and he darts up immediately, fumbling with the lid but it's opened. Pills spill all across the floor, but it doesn't matter. There's more where that came from.
He dumps a handful out, but it's the shaking hand search for what he's looking for in his amalgam pill bottle that ends up stalling him too long.